DR. CLAYTON’S VISIT.
Very slowly passed the days of my second week, for my mind was
constantly dwelling upon the important _Thursday_, which came at last,
and, with more than usual care, I dressed myself for school, sporting a
pale blue and white muslin, which mother said I must wear only on great
occasions. And this, to me, was a great occasion; and if, for want of a
better mirror, I at noon went down to a clear spring in the woods, and
there gave a few smoothing touches to my toilet, it was a weakness of
which, in a similar way, many an older female has been guilty. On my
return to the schoolhouse, I requested one of the larger girls to sweep
the floor as clean as she possibly could, while two or three of the boys
were sent after some green boughs to hang over the windows.
“I’ll bet we are going to have company; I thought so this morning when I
see the schoolma’am all dressed up,” whispered one to another—and after
a time, Jim Maxwell’s sister ventured to ask me, not _who_ was coming,
but “how many.”
With a blush, I replied, “Nobody but Dr. Clayton,” wondering why his
name should cleave so to the roof of my mouth! In a few minutes, the
fact that Dr. Clayton was coming was known both indoors and out, and
when I saw how fast John Thompson took himself home, after learning the
news, I involuntarily felt as if some evil were impending—a presentiment
which proved correct, for not long after school commenced, there came a
gentle rap at the outer door, which caused a great straightening up
among the scholars, and brought me instantly to my feet, for I supposed,
of course, he had come. What, then, was my surprise when, instead of
him, I met a haughty-looking young lady, who, frowning majestically upon
me, introduced herself as “Miss Thompson,” saying she had come to visit
the school.
I had never before had so good a view of her, and now, when I saw how
dignified she appeared, and that there really was in her manner
something elegant and refined, I not only felt myself greatly her
inferior, but I fancied that Dr. Clayton would also observe the
difference between us when he saw us together. After offering her the
seat of honor—my splint-bottomed chair—I proceeded with my duties as
composedly as possible, mentally hoping that the doctor would come soon.
She probably divined my thoughts, for once, when I cast a wistful glance
over the long hill, she said, “You seem to be constantly on the lookout.
Are you expecting any one?”
Involuntarily my eyes sought hers, but I quailed beneath their quizzical
expression, and scarcely knowing what I said, replied, “No, ma’am,”
repenting the falsehood the moment it was uttered, and half-resolving to
confess the truth, when she rejoined, “Oh, I thought you were,” while at
the same moment a little girl, who had been asleep, rolled from her
seat, bumping her head, and raising such an outcry that, for a time, I
forgot what I had said, and when it again recurred to me I thought it
was too late to rectify it. It was the second falsehood I remembered
telling, and it troubled me greatly. Turn it which way I would it was a
_lie_ still, and it smote heavily upon my conscience. Slowly the
afternoon dragged on, but it brought no Dr. Clayton; and when, at a
quarter of four, I called up my class of Abecedarians to read, what with
the _lie_ and the disappointment, my heart was so full that I could not
force back all the tears which struggled so fiercely for egress; and
when it came Willie Randall’s turn to read, two or three large drops
fell upon his chubby hand, and, looking in my face, he called out in a
loud, distinct voice—“You’re cryin’, you be!”
This, of course, brought a laugh from all the scholars, in which I was
fain to join, although I felt greatly chagrined that I should have
betrayed so much weakness before Dell Thompson, who, in referring to it
when school was out, said, “she supposed I wanted to see my mother, or
_somebody_!”
The sarcastic smile which dimpled the corners of her mouth angered me,
and when, at last, I was alone, my long pent-up tears fell in copious
showers. It is my misfortune never to be able to cry without disfiguring
my face, so that it is sometimes almost hideous to look upon; and now,
as I slowly walked home, I carefully kept my parasol lowered, so that no
one should see me. But I could not elude the vigilance of Mrs. Ross,
who, as usual, was at her post in the doorway. Although I knew she was a
dangerous woman, I rather liked her, for there was, to me, something
winning in her apparent friendliness, and we had come to be quite
intimate, so much so that I usually called there on my way to or from
school; but now, when she bade me come in, I declined, which act brought
her at once to the gate, where she obtained a full view of my swollen
features.
“Laws a mercy!” she exclaimed, “what’s up now? Why, you look like a
toad. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing much,” I said, and this was all she could solicit from me.
That night she called at Mr. Randall’s, and after sitting awhile, asked
me “to walk a little piece with her.” I saw there was something on her
mind, and conjecturing that it might have some connection with me, I
obeyed willingly, notwithstanding Mrs. Randall’s silent attempts to keep
me back. Twitching my sleeve when we were outside the gate, Mrs. Ross
asked if “it were true that I cried because Dr. Clayton didn’t come as
he promised?”
“Why, what do you mean?” I said. To which she replied, by telling me
that after I left her, she just ran in to Cap’n Thompson’s a minute or
two, when, who should she find there but Dr. Clayton, and when Dell told
him she’d been to visit the school, he said, “Ah, indeed, I was
intending to do so myself this afternoon, but I was necessarily detained
by a very sick patient.”
“‘That explains why she cried so,’ said Dell, and then,” continued Mrs.
Ross, “she went on to tell him how you looked out of the winder, and
when she asked you if you expected anybody, you said ‘No,’ and then at
last you cried right out in the school.”
“The mean thing!” I exclaimed. “Did she tell Dr. Clayton all that?”
“Yes, she did,” answered Mrs. Ross; “and it made my blood bile to hear
her go on makin’ fun of you, that is, kinder makin’ fun.”
“And the doctor, what did he say?” I asked. To which she replied, “Oh,
he laughed, and said it was too bad to disappoint you, if it affected
you like that, but he couldn’t help it.”
I hardly knew at which I was most indignant, Dr. Clayton or Dell, and
when I laid my aching head on my pillow, my last thoughts were, that “if
Dr. Clayton ever did come to school I’d let him know I didn’t care for
him—he might have Dell Thompson and welcome!”
I changed my mind, however, when early the next afternoon, the gentleman
himself appeared to vindicate his cause, saying he was sorry that he
could not have kept his appointment, adding, as he finally relinquished
my hand, “You had company, though, I believe, and so, on the whole, I am
glad I was detained, for I had rather visit you alone.”
Much as I now esteem Dr. Clayton, I do not hesitate to say that he was
then a male flirt, a species of mankind which I detest. He was the
handsomest, most agreeable man I had ever seen, and by some strange
fascination, he possessed the power of swaying me at his will. This he
well knew, and hence the wrong he committed by working upon my feelings.
Never passed hours more agreeably to me than did those of that
afternoon. And I even forgot that I was to go home that night, and that
in all probability father would come for me as soon as school was out,
thus preventing the quiet talk alone with Dr. Clayton, which I so much
desired: so when, about four o’clock, I saw the head of old Sorrel
appearing over the hill, my emotions were not particularly pleasant, and
I wished I had not been so foolish as to insist upon going home every
week. The driver, however, proved to be Charlie, and this in a measure
consoled me, for he, I knew, was good at taking _hints_, and would wait
for me as long as I desired; so I welcomed him with a tolerably good
grace, introducing him to Dr. Clayton, who addressed him as _Mr. Lee_,
thereby winning his friendship at once and forever!
When school was out and the scholars gone, I commenced making
preparations for my departure, shutting down the windows and piling away
books, slowly and deliberately, while Charlie, who seemed in no hurry,
amused himself by whipping at the thistle-tops which grew near the door.
At last Dr. Clayton, turning to him, said, “And so you have come to
carry your sister home, when I was promising myself that pleasure?”
Charlie glanced at my face, and its expression, doubtless, prompted his
answer, “You can do so now, if you choose, for I like to ride alone.”
Of course I disclaimed against such an arrangement, but my objections
were overruled, and almost before I knew what I was doing, I found
myself seated in Dr. Clayton’s covered buggy, with him at my side.
Telling Charlie “not to be surprised if he did not see us until sunset,”
he drove off in a different direction from Meadow Brook, remarking to me
that “it was a fine afternoon for riding and he meant to enjoy it.”
I hardly know whether he had any object in passing Capt. Thompson’s, but
he certainly did so, bowing graciously and showing his white teeth to
Dell, who, from a chamber window, looked haughtily down upon me, and as
I afterwards learned, made fun of my pink sun-bonnet and little yellow
dotted shawl. The sight of her naturally led him to speak of her, and
much to my surprise, he asked me how I liked her! I could not answer
truthfully and say “very well;” so I replied that “I hardly knew her.
She was very fine looking, and I presumed she was very intelligent and
accomplished.”
“You are a good-hearted little girl, Rose,” said he, “to speak thus of
her. Do you suppose _she_ would do the same by you if asked a similar
question?”
“Oh, no,” I answered, eagerly, “she couldn’t say I was fine looking.
Nobody ever said that.”
“If I should tell you that _I_ think you better looking than Dell
Thompson, what would you say?” he asked, looking under my bonnet, while,
with glowing cheeks, I turned my head away, and replied, “I am sure you
would not mean it. I know I am ugly, but I do not care so much about it
now as I used to.”
There was a silence for some minutes, and when he spoke again, it was of
faces, which, without regularity of features or brilliancy of
complexion, still had an expression exceedingly pleasing and attractive.
“I do not say yours is such a face,” said he, “for I never flatter; but
I _do_ say, and I mean it, too, that I like your looks far better than I
do Miss Thompson’s.
If I had cried then, as I wished to, I should have done a most foolish
thing; but by a strong effort of the will, I forced down my tears, and
changing the conversation, commenced talking on subjects quite foreign
to Dell Thompson, or good looks. I found Dr. Clayton a most agreeable
companion, and ere the close of that ride, he was “all the world” to me.
In short, I suppose I was as much in love as a child of thirteen can
well be, and when we at last reached home and I introduced him to my
mother and sisters, I blushed like a guilty thing, stealing out of the
room as soon as possible, and staying out for a long time, although I
wanted so much to be back there with him.
“Catched a beau, hain’t you? and a handsome one, too!” said Sally,
applying her eye to the key-hole and thus obtaining a view of his face.
Tommy Trimmer, a little boy, five years of age, who lived near by, and
who chanced to be there, overheard her, and when Dr. Clayton, who was
very fond of children, coaxed him into his lap, he asked, pointing to
me, “Be you Rosa’s beau? Sally said you was!”
The doctor laughed aloud, referring Tommy to me for an answer, and
telling him “it was just as I said.”
“Rose is altogether too young to be riding round with beaux. It will
give her a bad name,” said grandma, when at last the doctor was gone.
No one made any answer until Lizzie, who was more of my way of thinking,
said, “_You_ must have had beaux early, grandma, for you wasn’t quite
fifteen when you were married; I saw it so in the Bible!”
Of course, grandma had nothing to offer in her own defence, save the
very correct remark, that “girls now-adays were not what they were when
she was young;”—and here the conversation ceased.